


Unrest

by maebyrutherford (maeberutherford)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flirting, Light Angst, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:50:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maeberutherford/pseuds/maebyrutherford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen stumbles across Trevelyan blowing off some steam.</p>
<p>My contribution to the  Cullen Fanfic Telephone Game on tumblr. The theme was "hour" in 1,000 words or less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unrest

Cullen approached the makeshift headquarters he had established for the soldiers, violently irritated that many of them seemed to be standing around with nothing to do. He was still on edge after Haven, just as everyone else should be, or so he’d thought. There was far too much work to be done, and if they thought they could slack off whenever he was called away for a few hours, well, they were sadly mistaken.

“That’s the Herald, isn’t it? Should we stop her?” he overheard one of them say to another as he drew breath to reprimand them.

“Inquisitor now, remember?” the other corrected. He followed their gaze but his view was blocked by more soldiers, and then he heard a guttural, primal shout.

He pushed past bodies until he reached the training ring, ignoring the panicked mutterings of his title as he passed.

“Heh-rayUH!” Trevelyan cried again, swinging her great sword with frightening effort into the dummy and very nearly cleaving it in two. Cullen cringed; her strength was impressive but her form was all wrong. Her back was likely to give out if she didn’t correct it. Fatigue clung to her like a heavy cloak, and the back of her tunic was darkened with sweat.

“Inquisitor!” He took hesitant steps forward, not wanting to get too close as she worked to dislodge the blade.

Dirt puffed around her heel as she spun to face him. Ashen hair clung to her forehead and her color was so high it was almost alarming. The gawking soldiers apparently remembered they had work to do and scattered to the wind.

His approach was more purposeful now. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” she panted, her eyes wild, cheeks stained with dirt. “I’m simply practicing. Something wrong with that?”

_Not inherently, but_ ** _something_** _is definitely wrong here_ , he thought. She pushed her hair out of her face, and when her hands fell to her sides he could see that they were trembling, so delicate in contrast to what he had just seen them do.

His eyes lingered there. “Maker, you’re shaking. How long have you been out here?”

She shrugged, either unaware or uncaring. “An hour, maybe longer.”

His eyebrows shot up, wanting to scold her but holding his tongue. Cullen knew better than most what it looked like when someone was in turmoil, and she was his superior now, not some lowly recruit. He had no right to reprimand her or to pry.

“Speaking purely as your advisor, Inquisitor, it is not wise to push yourself so hard, particularly with a greatsword. You’re unaccustomed to such a weapon, you could cause yourself serious injury.”

Her teeth clacked together as she clenched her jaw. “Your opinion is noted, Commander.”  She went back to the dummy and wrenched the sword free before stabbing it in the dirt, and the hiss that passed through her lips did not escape his notice.  She cocked her head at him while she removed her gloves and tucked them under her arm, her green eyes almost dangerous in the sunlight. “Now may I go, or would you like to lecture me some more?”

He moved into her personal space and held her defiant gaze, so carefully that she didn’t even notice he was reaching for her hands until they were firmly ensconced within his.

She glanced down, surprised, then back up at him. “What – what are you doing?” But she didn’t pull away, her features softening, gloves tumbling to the ground.

“If I don’t do this, your hands will be no more than claws by morning.” He dug his fingertips into her palms and rubbed the pads of flesh there, massaging her hands and working his way down to her fingertips. She watched his fingers do their work and let her arms droop, her expression impossible to read. Cullen swallowed hard at the unexpected intimacy but felt it would be cruel to stop now, he could feel his ministrations working.

When he felt the last bits of tension leave her hands he released them, noting how her fingertips trailed down his as they each took a half step backward.

“There,” he found himself slightly breathless, “that’s better.” She examined her hands but his eye was drawn to her rosy lips, particularly the bottom one which seemed to jut out slightly when she was concentrating. He retrieved her gloves and handed them to her.

“You have my thanks,” she said, “I – I should go.” She turned to leave.

“Wait.” It came out sounding more like an order than a request.

“Yes?” She was steadier, calmer, and he was glad to see it.

“I want you to know that, should you ever require a sparring partner, or training, I would be happy to oblige.” He cursed himself for sounding so bloody _professional_. “Or if you ever need to talk, about anything, I am here. For you,” he quickly added, trying not to sound so deathly serious.

Cullen clutched the pommel of his sword with both hands and awaited her reply, his thumbs twitching. He was proud of himself for holding eye contact, because he was quickly realizing that her beauty was almost too much to bear at times. Somewhere he’d heard the phrase “lost in your eyes” - probably in one of the few romance novels he’d read out of sheer boredom in Kinloch Hold - and it no longer seemed like such a silly notion.

She nodded stiffly. “Also noted, Commander.”

His heart sank a little at her stilted tone, until he saw the smile tugging at her lips and realized she was teasing him. He smirked right back, hoping she found it charming and feeling ridiculous for it.

As he watched her walk away  _(Did she always strut in such an…intriguing manner?_  he wondered), he heard someone snickering behind him. When he whirled around to look, he only saw his men and women bustling about doing their business.

“That’s right – back to work!” he shouted at nobody in particular.


End file.
